With a mention of two other singular beings who occur in the Skazkas, the present chapter may be brought to a close. The first is a certain Morfei (Morpheus?) who figures in the following variant of a well-known tale.
There was a king, and he had a daughter with whom a general who lived over the way fell in love. But the king would not let him marry her unless he went where none had been, and brought back thence what none had seen. After much consideration the general set out and travelled “over swamps, hill, and rivers.” At last he reached a wood in which was a hut, and inside the hut was an old crone. To her he told his story, after hearing which, she cried out, “Ho, there! Morfei, dish up the meal!” and immediately a dinner appeared of which the old crone made the general partake. And next day “she presented that cook to the general, ordering him to serve the general honorably, as he had served her. The general took the cook and departed.” By-and-by he came to a river and was appealed to for food by a shipwrecked crew. “Morfei, give them to eat!” he cried, and immediately excellent viands appeared, with which the mariners were so pleased that they gave the general a magic volume in exchange for his cook—who, however, did not stay with them but secretly followed his master. A little later the general found another shipwrecked crew, who gave him, in exchange for his cook, a sabre and a towel, each of magic power. Then the general returned to his own city, and his magic properties enabled him to convince the king that he was an eligible suitor for the hand of the Princess.[294]
The other is a mysterious personage whose name is “Oh!” The story in which he appears is one with which many countries are familiar, and of which numerous versions are to be found in Russia. A father sets out with his boy for “the bazaar,” hoping to find a teacher there who will instruct the child in such science as enables people “to work little, and feed delicately, and dress well.” After walking a long way the man becomes weary and exclaims, “Oh! I’m so tired!” Immediately there appears “an old magician,” who says—
“Why do you call me?”
“I didn’t call you,” replies the old man. “I don’t even know who you are.”
“My name is Oh,” says the magician, “and you cried ‘Oh!’ Where are you taking that boy?”
The father explains what it is he wants, and the magician undertakes to give the boy the requisite education, charging “one assignat rouble” for a year’s tuition.[295]
The teacher, in this story, is merely called a magician; but as in other Russian versions of it his counterpart is always described as being demoniacal, and is often openly styled a devil, it may be assumed that Oh belongs to the supernatural order of beings. It is often very difficult, however, to distinguish magicians from fiends in storyland, the same powers being generally wielded, and that for the same purposes, by the one set of beings as by the other. Of those powers, and of the end to which the stories represent them as being turned, some mention will be made in the [next chapter].
FOOTNOTES:
[224] The adjective likhoi has two opposite meanings, sometimes signifying what is evil, hurtful, malicious, &c., sometimes what is bold, vigorous, and therefore to be admired. As a substantive, likho conveys the idea of something malevolent or unfortunate. The Polish licho properly signifies uneven. But odd numbers are sometimes considered unlucky. Polish housewives, for instance, think it imprudent to allow their hens to sit on an uneven number of eggs. But the peasantry also describe by Licho an evil spirit, a sort of devil. (Wojcicki in the “Encyklopedyja Powszechna,” xvii. p. 17.) “When Likho sleeps, awake it not,” says a proverb common to Poland and South Russia.